


Not you! Not ever!

by I_hate_mages_No_you_dont



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Hurt, I am sorry I am so sorry, M/M, Rite of Tranquility, circle Anders, kanders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:49:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9280547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/pseuds/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont
Summary: For day 4 of Januanders:Five times Anders wasn't allowed to say what he wanted to. And the one time he couldn't.(by kittenmage)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thejourneymaninn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/gifts).



> This fanfic belongs to the same canon as "I'm a healer?" and "It started with ice cream". Both of these contain fluff. This one, not so much.  
> You have been warned.

1)  
Directly after the unexpected discovery of ice cream magic, Karl and Anders started to spend more time together. Mostly in the library when they were studying. Karl was tutor for the younger mages and they always used Karl’s duty to help other apprentices study as an excuse to see each other. The older boy spent most of his time in the library anyway. Devouring volume after volume of arcane knowledge under the watchful eyes of the Templars.

Anders’ thirst for studying Arcanum so far had been minimal. He understood the basic letters and script. But there were just as many books about healing in Trade or Orlesian, so he only had to bother with reading the language of the old Tevinter mages, when Wynne made him write an essay. One of said essays brought Anders to the library a month after he had met Karl. Or officially met. He had wondered at the older apprentice even years prior to that encounter. After the initial wonder a degree of admiration had grown. Admiration that Anders didn’t like. It made him ponder about things of a different nature. About how the soft newly sprouting stubble on Karl’s face would feel under his fingertips. About Karl softly smiling at him. A smile that was only for him. About running away with Karl. Destroying the phylactery and setting his friend free. For they were friends now.

Despite what Anders had thought and feared and dreaded when he was brought to the circle, he had at last found a friend. Apart from so many of the younger mages that looked up to him like one would to an older brother. Much like the children in his village had done when he was younger. And this was the reason their friendship sometimes filled him with more sadness than content. Because it reminded him of his lost past.

With Karl things were different. Entirely different. Karl didn’t look at Anders like a brother. As far as that could be, he saw him as an equal. If not in age, but in mind. And something more. That was beyond rational explanations. Karl liked him, for who he was. This knowledge filled Anders with more warmth than any fire could. More than once when he looked up from his parchment to gaze at Karl’s concentrated frown when he studied, those words, those despicable, treacherous words had danced on the tip of his tongue. 

_‘I love you!’_

Unspoken. Swallowed down. To be forgotten. Because surely Anders’ hope was a foolish one.

2)  
Counting by the falling snow Anders saw through the high arched windows of the library, and that it was the fourth winter since his arrival at Kinloch Hold, he must have been 16 by now. 16 years. That was old enough to be recruited for the king’s army. Old enough to enter into a profession. But luckily not old enough for the Harrowing.

Anders had heard horrifying tales about it. And heard the yells and screams from the room where the ceremony was held.

He never wanted to come of age, he never wanted to be old enough to undergo this procedure.

A warm hand placed itself on Anders* fidgeting knee.

“Anders, you’re doing it again…” Karl’s blue eyes were focused directly at his, capturing them in their gaze. 

“Doing what? Looking marvellous today?” Anders whispered back, knowing full well that Karl had long since learned of his escape mechanism for uncomfortable situations. Teasing, flirting and irony. Yet Karl said nothing, he simply sighed, gave Anders’ knee a light squeeze and resumed his studies. Anders’ gaze lingered a little longer on Karl. There were so many unspoken words between them. So much they thought but couldn’t say. About a month ago, when they had come back from one of the rare trips to the outside world to gather herbs under a specific moon, the weather had been freezing cold. The little group of mages and their Templars surveillance had hurried back to the Tower as soon as they were done. Everyone had been freezing, drenched by the splashing water from the trip over the lake. 

Anders and Karl had volunteered to put the herbs away to the storage. Volunteered as in “Let the Ander take care of the plants while the rest warms up. He’s used to weather like that.” Karl of course had offered to assist him, though his teeth clattered and he seemed on the brink of a cold. Anders was used to this treatment, but when it included Karl as well, it made him angry.

They silently stashed away the herbs in bundles to dry, when the first sneeze echoed through the room.

“I knew it!” Anders was by his friend’s side instantly. His hand swiftly moving to Karl’s forehead to check the temperature and to his neck to check for signs of an inflammation. Then he was ready to cast the spell. It was a fairly simple one. Actually, one of the first Anders had learned. “What are you doing?” Karl’s eyes had gone wide as he felt the soothing waves of magic wash over him. 

“Healing you! I won’t ever allow you to be sick! Not you! Not ever! I…”

 _‘I love you too much!‘_ was what his mind supplied. Instead of the words a soft stutter erupted, followed by a crimson blush. The healing magic ebbed away and for a second they just stared at each other. Anders wasn’t sure. But he somehow had the curious feeling that Karl knew exactly what he had been about to say.

Then all this had been forgotten as Karl placed a soft kiss on Anders’ lips. “I know… but don’t let the Templars see this.”

Back in the present, Anders shook his head. His cheeks had flushed slightly again at the memory of that first kiss. And the many others they had stolen from each other in unwatched moments. Then he let his own hand disappear under the table and squeezed Karl’s knee in return. They wouldn’t put Karl through the Harrowing soon either. At least Anders hoped that. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“Not you! Not ever!”, he whispered and Karl understood.

3)  
Months of hidden meetings and stolen kisses turned into years. Not once had Anders tried to escape. He would never put Karl through the dangers of an escape that might fail. And freedom without Karl, was no freedom at all.

So, Anders stayed.

How much time had passed, got obvious when Anders eventually grew taller than Karl. At first neither of them had noticed. Then younger mages started to ask Anders for the books from the higher shelves. Anders was in charge of placing them back in case someone forgot to do it. And the day Wynne asked Anders to get the dried elfroot from where it hung on the ceiling was when Karl noticed. His lover was taller than him. By quite a bit as it seemed. This was the first time Karl had blushed as heavily as this. Anders by far wasn’t the same boy he had kissed all those years ago. A sudden impulse of rebellion against circle laws. In fact, Anders wasn’t even a boy any more.

How Karl could have not realized this earlier, was a mystery to him. They spend as much time together as secrecy and their different magical studies allowed. And yet he hadn’t seen it. Really seen it until this moment.

Many others had, though. To distract their supervisors even further Anders had never really dropped his flirtatious attitude towards anyone else. Karl knew of at least ten other mages that had a crush on him. Not that they would act on it. Anders was as flirty as he was nonchalant. As soon as someone got to interested, he moved towards the next person with as much gallantry in his refusal as possible.

Karl asked himself more than once why he wasn’t jealous. He might as well be. But then Anders would turn towards him and smile that particular bright, warm smile. Honest and only for him. 

And Karl knew. Even though Anders had never said it. Karl knew that Anders loved only him.

4)  
The happy smile froze on Anders’ face.

They had survived the Harrowing. They were free! As free as one could be behind the walls of the circle. And now they wanted to take Karl away.

Kirkwall had asked for a new enchanter. And someone had dared to mention Karl’s name. And now the Templars would come to take him away. To Kirkwall!

Bitter, angry tears stung in Anders’ eyes. He clenched his hands into fits. Years they had lived here. Years they had spent together. Years in which Anders made no attempt to run away. And now they were going to take away the one person that meant more to him than any other and send him to the City of Chains. The one city in Thedas that feared mages more than any other place. They wanted to send Karl to that place!

Kind, soft hearted, lovely Karl in a city that would hate him.

_‘No!’_

Templars appeared in the room. Orders were given to pack. Karl was to leave the same day.

Couldn’t they at least have given him time. Not even a single day?!

No, apparently, they wanted to get him away from Kinloch Hold. Away from Anders. What other reasons might there be? Someone, maybe the Maker himself wanted to punish Anders for wanting something for himself. He was a mage. He shouldn’t have anything. Not he, not ever…

There were senior enchanters congratulating him on the way to his dormitory. The head of bouncing curls of Salina Amell appeared out of nowhere, as she hugged Anders tightly. Telling him how happy she was that he passed the Harrowing. Anders didn’t even remember afterwards what he had replied. He had just hurried on to the dorm where he and some other mages slept. Where Karl used to sleep.

When he reached the room, Karl was already there, stuffing his meagre belongings into a bag. A Templar stood by the door. Unmoving. Silent. So, they wouldn’t even have the privacy of a last conversation before…

Before…

Anders’ thoughts broke off. And so, did his voice. For a few minutes, he just stood there staring at Karl. They had planned to celebrate a little. With Wynne’s permission, they wanted to make ice cream for the whole tower. Maybe even the Templars.

But no one in Kinloch would ever get their ice cream again. Nor Karl’s valuable advice in the library. Nor his help with a difficult spell. Not the gentle touch of his hand, pressed against his own under the dining table. Holding Anders when no one would see. Comforting him at night, when the nightmares returned. Being the constant guide through life in the circle. Karl wouldn’t be there the next morning. When Anders would wake up and find the bed next to his empty.

His heart seemed to collapse under the weight of the future emptiness. And he would have gladly given in and cried and shouted at the Templars and the world. If not for Karl.

Where no one ever thought that Karl was capable of being angry or sad, Anders knew better. He saw the strain in his lover’s face, the way his lips where pressed shut, leaving only a thin line. The way his fingers didn’t tremble, because everything was held back behind a stoic mask. That none would ever look through. Except Anders.

Karl was done packing. He turned and faced Anders for the first time after the announcement. His blue eyes, where suddenly dull and empty. The few grey hairs in his beard seemed to stand out more in his pale face. And his hands held on to the bag so tightly, all colour had drained from them.

“Goodbye Anders!”

Even his voice was hollow. 

Before Karl could walk through the door or the Templar could do anything to prevent it, Anders took one long stride forward and slung his arms around Karl. His face buried in the crook of Karl’s neck, he still desperately fought against the sobbing that crawled up his throat. “I’ll write to you! And one day I’ll come for you!! I… I…”

Before Anders’ lips spilled what had so long been successfully hidden, Karl interrupted. “I know! And I’ll wait!”

Then there were strong, gauntleted hands that pulled them apart. Only a moment later Karl was gone, the door flung shut behind him.

Only for a moment Anders stood there. Shock trickling down his spine. Then his feet started moving. Slow steps at first, his hand opening the door again. Then his steps got faster and eventually frantic. He reached the big front gate just in time. It was still open. Karl stood under the archway and turned as he heard the hasty steps echo through the hall. Immediately a Templar was at Anders’ side to hold him back. Another forcing Karl to leave faster. Shortly Anders struggled against the iron grip and would have succeeded if not for a second Templar coming to aid the first.

So Anders, instead of fighting against the Templars’ hold, bellowed at the top of his lungs:

**“Not you! Not ever!”**

And then he saw the tears in Karl’s eyes and how he disappeared behind the closing gate.

5)  
Years passed. Escapes happened. None kept Anders out of the circle for long.

Anders wrote. Letter after letter he sent to Kirkwall. Each one coded and containing hidden messages. And there was always a reply in Karl’s precise handwriting. Always more sombre than Anders’ letters. Yet they always came.

The one year in solitary, Anders’ mind often drifted towards Karl. But then it drifted elsewhere and nowhere and when they finally let him out, Anders wasn’t sure that there was any sanity left inside his mind or body. Until he was handed a stack of letters. Dusty, of varying sizes. Different ink. And Anders cried. After months of thinking there was nothing left within him, not a single tear or sound but the weak determination to survive, he held letters in his hands that were written by Karl. To him. Even though there never was a reply, Karl had never stopped writing. Not once.

He read them instantly. Even though the dim light of the dormitory was too bright for his eyes. Even though some people wanted to speak to him. Knocked on his door. Brought him food. All he had eyes for were Karl’s letters. 

The moment he was finished, he started again. And again. Enjoying that he could see more than just the flicker of light in front of his cell. Enjoying the feeling of paper between his fingers. And the faint smell of the sea. But even more than that Anders sucked in every word from Karl, every question, every short pause in his sentences.

Then he fumbled for ink and paper. And with slow unsteady fingers that had to learn how to hold a quill again, his fingers started to draw the words onto the paper. Unnervingly slow. But Anders had all the time in the world. After he was finished with this letter he would leave the circle. He would leave for good. But until then, he needed to write this letter to Karl. To thank him for bringing him back to life. For never giving up. Never losing faith that Anders would one day reply again.

As always, he didn’t say what he wanted to say the most. Because he must never write that. Because as always Templars would read the letter. Would dissect them and destroy them if they found anything suspicious. Or worse. Seek out and punish the mage the letter was written by and the one it was addressed to.

Anders never would let Karl come to harm. Not because of him. Not ever.

So again, the words that danced through his mind weren’t written. _‘I love you!’_ was the silent phrase that was in none of their letters, but always even more present in its absence.

 

+1)  
The dagger was shaking in his hand. His fingers clutched so tightly around it that his knuckles went white.

This was not what he had anticipated when he finally came to Kirkwall to find Karl.

This was exactly what he had wanted to prevent from the very day all those years back, Karl had become his friend.

And know there he was. The most brilliant enchanter Kinloch Hold had seen in years. Made tranquil. Against Chantry law.

Because of Anders.

“I…” The words wouldn’t come over his lips. Not this time and never again. He was free to say it. Free to say it at last. But he couldn’t.

“Please kill me before I forget again. I don’t know how you brought it back, but it’s fading.”

Karl’s words rung in his ears. The last emotional words to come from his lips were words of fear and agony. And Anders could do nothing against it. Nothing but granting him his last wish.

This time, there was no Templar to stop him from saying it. But the man before him, asking him why he looked at him like that, wouldn’t even feel anything in response to Anders’ words.

So, it was not _'I love you'_ that came from Anders’ lips before he placed the knife at exactly the right angle to kill Karl as swiftly as possible. It was:

“Goodbye”

**Author's Note:**

> To say it with Anders' words: I'm sorry. I am so sorry!
> 
> Karl means a lot to me, not just as a plot point in Anders' storyline. And I wish, there was more content about him. More than him being the friend the Templars used to get to Anders. Because he deserves better!


End file.
